Grandma's Diary
by GillyLee12
Summary: Grandma tells the truth. TV Verse


**With all my thanks to SamW for her help.**

* * *

My name is Maybeline Tracy. And it is my birthday tomorrow. To my surprise, there's nothing that's pointing to a surprise party. Not that I would like a surprise party, but not getting one to complain about, is not what I had in mind. After all, not everybody gets to be ninety.

I sometimes have the feeling that my son and my grandsons don't like me. Well, that feeling is mutual. Don't get me wrong; I would like them, if they weren't men. Men that are doing men's things. You know what I mean… Oh, I suppose they can't help themselves and let us be adult about it, babies must be made to be born into this world. But I never will understand why with humans it isn't the same as with animals.

What's that you say? Yes, you're right, of course, but we're not animals, we're the Lord's greatest creation, created in his image and I can't think the Lord… Oooh, look what you nearly made me say! I should wash my mouth out with soap.

Well, I'm an old woman and the Lord will forgive me, or else I'll give Him a piece of my mind, when I see Him. No, what I meant to say was, that with animals… well, the male is only interested in that when the female is… uhm… how would I put it… receptive. And that's only once or twice a year. But with human males, well, you know what I mean.

I was born in the Flint Hills in Kansas as the daughter of a bunting bag manufacturer. You know, those baby sleeping bags. You put the baby in the sack, put its arms into the sleeves and zip it up. Handy, you don't have to worry the little mites will kick off their covers and catch a cold.

Ma worked for a cattle fertilization firm. Yeah, well, I'm sorry, but that's one of those things that you have to do when you live in a farm place. You city folks have no idea what it takes before you have that big juicy steak on your barbecue.

Well, I grew up. There's not so much to tell about that. I went to school, went to church, did my chores in the house, and sang in the church choir. And in the spare moments I had, I sat quilting. I met Grant at a church picnic and before long, we started dating.

Oh, let me tell you we had a grand time together. When I think back of those afternoons when we drank lemonade on the front porch… Anyway, time went by and we decided to marry.

So, the day before my wedding Ma took me with her to… Oh dear, this is a bit embarrassing. You see, you have to put something in a cow to get calves. And that something has to come from somewhere, doesn't it? The bull's… uhm… part. Well, Ma showed me how that was… uhm… collected and then she told me, "Maybeline," she said, "Maybeline, tomorrow night your Grant will do the same." Oh my, I nearly fainted. I mean, the size of that… that… thing.

Anyway, I think I can safely say that we had a good marriage. Oh yes, in those first months Grant was a bit too enthusiastic about the, uhm, physical site of married life. I must admit that I sometimes wished I could make him sleep in a bunting bag.

Well, we got a son, Jeff and what a lovely child he was, with his dark-brown hair and dark-blue eyes. Grant calmed down after Jeff was born. He worked hard on the farm, he went out at the crack of dawn and it was often that he didn't return before it was dark. Sometimes he was so tired then, that he couldn't stand on his poor feet. The only thing I could say against him was that he didn't go to church as often as he could have done. But I think the Lord will forgive him that, because he, Grant, I mean, spent much time on the Sunday mornings doing chores for that nice Frenchwoman.

You see, our little town had grown over the years. And that nice Frenchwoman I was talking about, Madame Boudreau, had opened a boarding house for young working women. Now, she was French and she was a Catholic, but it was good of her to offer those young women a place to stay. Between you and me… a few of those young women were… uhm… well, you could say, a bit loud. And I didn't think much of the way they dressed. But Madame Boudreau did what she could. Often I passed her house in the evening, returning from bible study or choir practice and heard music and laughter coming from her house. Yes, Madame Boudreau did what she could to keep those young women off the street.

Sometimes I would bake apple pie on Saturday night, so Grant could take it with him as he went over there to chop some wood or kill a rooster. Yeah, a typical city woman. According to Grant, she could come up with a wonderful meal, but she couldn't kill her roosters! Oh well, what can you expect from a Frenchwoman?

Time passed and Jeff grew from an inquisitive baby to an inquisitive toddler, if you get my drift. So, the next Saturday, after I finished the house chores, I got into the pick-up and drove to Emporia where I bought a couple of lengths of sturdy flannel. Would you believe how much they dared to ask for zippers? Wicked, I call it. Anyway, I got the cloth and the zippers and made Jeff a couple of bunting bags. That took care of that!

I wish you wouldn't keep interrupting me. What took care of what? Oh, don't be so naïve. Genesis 38:8-10, of course! The wicked sin of self-pollution!

Jeff began protesting after he went to school. But I was firm about it. He had to sleep in his bag. Period. I mean, as he was getting older it became more and more important that he couldn't… well, you know what I mean. It wasn't easy though and shortly after his sixteenth birthday, I sadly lost the battle.

For ten years later Jeff became a father. Need I say more? Oh, yes, he'd married this young woman from the East. Boston, I think it was, or was it Chicago? Anyway, one of them large places. Lucille, or as she preferred it, Lucy. And don't get me wrong, she was a nice woman and in many ways, the right wife for Jeff. But she couldn't restrain him. I mean, five children in nine years!!

But I am going a bit too fast. Now, when Jeff had finished high school, he told us that he wanted to get into the Air Force. At first that came as a shock. I mean, the farm was in our family since 1831. Since Moses Grinter and Charles Tracy settled in what was later to become Kansas State. Now Charles married a daughter of Cyprian Chouteau. And the Chouteaus were the first white settlers, but they were French, of course. There was quite a bit of Indian blood in that family too. Shawnee mostly. Well, it wasn't as if there were many English girls around then. And no bunting bags either! He, he, he… hmpf… did I hear laughing? Don't tell me I don't have a sense of humour. So, yes, we were sad that Jeff didn't want to take over the farm. And for a time I was sorry that Grant and I didn't have a second child. But it could have worse, couldn't it? I mean, Jeff could've wanted to become a bookkeeper. No, a son in the military was nothing to be ashamed about.

Anyway, time went on and we lived our lives and as I told you Jeff went into the Air Force and did well. And he married Lucy and you could say he did that well, too. Five kids. In nine years. But I must say that they were great grandsons. No, no, I don't mean great-grandsons. They're grandsons, but they're great. Apart from being men, that is. I'm sorry to say that Lucy and Jeff didn't believe in bunting bags. And I can't help wondering if things would have gone the same way if they had.

After Scott was born, Jeff left the Air Force and went into NASA. A proud moment for us all was when Jeff went to the moon. Proud moment and exciting. Yes, exciting to a point that Grant and I… well, you know what I mean. Anyway, after that moon mission Jeff left NASA and began Tracy Industries. All very technical, but it made him a rich man. Although money doesn't make you happy, of course. What's that you say? Oh, but of course, it's very handy to have.

Well, and then Grant and Lucy died. That was on that skiing vacation in Colorado. There were many avalanches that year. You remember? Lucy, the two youngest boys and Grant and I were in the house when it was hit by one. And, yeah, well, only the boys and I survived. A very sad time. I did miss Grant, as I've said, he was a good man. But Jeff didn't take the death of Lucy very well. He worked even harder than he did before and left his sons to cope for themselves.

No, now I'm a bit unfair. Jeff is a good father, he always was. And I know now that he had started thinking about International Rescue. But the boys, my grandsons… You see, they know that now too, of course. About International Rescue, I mean. But as kids, they only knew that their father didn't have time for them any more. And I truly believe that this, combined with having no bunting bags, well, it did something to them. It changed them. They're not the men they could have been. I'm talking about the three oldest now, you understand, the two youngest are all right. Because I stepped in and raised those boys. And my, did I have problems with Scott at first about the bunting bag. But I won the battle.

So then came the time that Jeff had earned enough money and found a bright young man to help them with building those planes and machines of theirs. Brains… a bright young man, but skinny, far too skinny. I never managed to fatten him up properly. He always forgot to eat. And he stuttered. And Kyrano came to live with us, to help me in the house.

I didn't like Kyrano. And I didn't understand him. He was always saying strange things. I remember, when we were building the villa and starting up International Rescue… What? Yes, I'll tell you about that later, but now I'm talking about Kyrano and I'm an old woman, you mustn't interrupt me or I'll forget what I'm talking about. Were was I?

Oh, yes, we were building the villa. I remember that he, Kyrano, stood watching the revolving door that Scott was going to use when he was to enter that plane contraption of his. Kyrano looked at it and said, "Man who goes through door to plane sideways is going to Bangkok." Virgil looked at him with surprise, frowning as he let the words sink in. And then he and Scott became hysterical with laughter.

I started to say, "Why would Scott want go to Bangkok…" when Jeff dragged me out of the room to ask my advice about the layout of the kitchen.

I remember when I had this talk with Kyrano about…let's call it the facts of life. After all, he had a daughter living here. And a mighty handsome creature she was, I might add. But the girl lived in a house full of young men and Jeff had insisted on stowing away the bunting bags. It was not practical, he said. What if they had to get up in a hurry for a mission, he said. Well, I still say that Brains could have made a… what do you call it? One of those remote control contraptions. Anyway, I told Kyrano some details of my married life and then that funny man said, "Wife who put husband in doghouse soon find him in cathouse." What do you make of that? We didn't have a cat, well, only barn cats, but they never came into the house. Strange man, that Kyrano.

* * *

And of course, this year is my first birthday without Scott, Virgil and Gordon. And the Kyrano's aren't here any more either, so Alan isn't in the best of moods. I still think Jeff should have listened to me. If only he wouldn't have thrown out those bunting bags!! Well, no use crying over spilled milk. Our Lord must have had a reason for it and ours is not to ask why. Although I must admit to you guys that that's not always easy for an old woman.

You see, there was this accident, oh, I still can't talk about it, but you know so much of it already… I'd better tell the tale in full.

You know those piers? Many seaside towns have them, wooden or metal constructions that stand in the sea and you can go there and have fun. Good, clean and decent fun. Go for a walk and watch the waves, sit down and watch the waves, feed the gulls and watch the waves. Have something to eat and… yes, I know, that food isn't exactly wholesome, but hey, even I can see the sun shine in the water, in the waves, he, he, he! You never thought that of ol' grandma, did you? Yes, I do have a sense of humour. Where was I?

Oh yes, the food, well, it's just once a year and it's a vacation, so I don't think it can do much harm. But that was not what I wanted to tell you about. Those piers, there's often some entertainment there. One of those theatrical things. Now, I don't hold with those things, mind you. Fast women with loose morals, they even show cleavage! And we know where that will end!! Or there is a comedian. In this case, it was a magician, a juggler. Not that it matters much, the Lord and I frown on it all.

So, Scott and Virgil… I did tell you about them, did I? They were my oldest two grandsons, well, Scott still is…

Excuse me; forgive an old woman for crying. Oh well, the Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away.

So, Scott and Virgil went on this rescue mission… I did tell you about International Rescue, didn't I? That technical thing my son Jeff cooked up? They went on this mission, in England, to the pier in Scarborough where… What's that you say? There is no pier in Scarborough? Yes, I know, my dear. There isn't, not any more. Anyway, there was a fire in that place where the juggler performed his ungodly things and he couldn't get out. Well, you can't let even a bad man die, can you?

So, Scott sat there doing all sorts of backbreaking and technical things behind that Mobile Control contraption, while Virgil went in to get that man out. Now, I was his grandmother, but even I have to admit that Virgil was a sweet man, but not very gifted between the ears. And I'm sure that it wasn't Scott's fault the place exploded. Poor Virgil must have dropped something or tripped over his feet.

Anyway, that place exploded and there was only one thing Scott could do! And he did that without any delay. He called 911. Or 999 as those funny English insist on doing.

Well, now I come to the part that will maybe be a bit difficult to believe. But I think that you know me well enough by now, to know that I don't lie. Here goes… there was that juggler's booth, two men were inside, that juggler and my Virgil. Now, when the firemen went in they found the body of that juggler and a little chocolate-brown, a rich chocolate-brown bunny rabbit that was hopping around. So, unbelievable as it is, there's just one possible explanation, is there? That bunny was Virgil! Which, by the way does prove that those magical things are wicked, don't you think?

Let me tell you that it took some getting used to that! But don't worry; I will not bore you with all that.

Aww, it was just the cutest little animal. Of course, I don't care much for pets in the house, but for Virgil I made an exception. To a point. He had to stay nights in his rabbit hutch on the balcony and I did not want him in the kitchen.

Oh, you should've seen him running up and down the piano keys! You could see that he was happy doing that. Although the noise was nerve-racking.

Scott walked around like he'd wiped his backside with poison ivy leaves. Pardon my bluntness, but this is what we say in the Flint Hills of Kansas when someone is moping around. Why, I've even heard the travelling preacher say it.

And you will agree with me that it was a sorry thing that Scott turned out to be allergic to rabbits. Virgil and he used to be close, as brothers should be, many is the time that I came in, like when I wanted to tidy up the lounge and found Virgil sitting on Scott's lap. And Scott had those glassy, watering eyes and a bad asthmatic wheeze.

Well, sniffing up of salt water took care of that! Aww, 'in through the nose and out through the mouth.' How often have I made them all do that when they had the sniffles. And no one dislikes it more than Scott.

But then he suffered from it as a youngster too, didn't he? Although he never let that come between him and spending time with his brothers. I remember, Scott must have been, what, sixteen or seventeen, when I went to check on the boys, before I went to bed too. I found Scott in Virgil's bedroom; he must've hopped over… oh dear… hopping…

Where was I? Oh yes… Scott and Virgil were playing one of those silly games that boys will cook up when they are that age. He, he, he, I'll never forget it! They stood in the middle of the room in their bunting-bags and were trying to undo each other's zippers with their teeth. Oh yes, boys will be boys. Well, I could see and hear that Scott had a bad attack of his asthma, so I took him to the bathroom at once and had him sniff up a good dose of the salt water. And I gave him a piece of my mind too. He was old and wise enough to take care of his health and if he wanted to join the Air Force as his dad did, he needed to be in the best of health.

Well, Scott readily agreed with me and asked if he could sleep without a bunting bag. So, when he felt an attack coming up, he could do what he had to do about it, without disturbing his father or me. Come to think about it, I think that was around the time when he started to sleepwalk. But luckily, the Air Force didn't have a problem with that.

So, the boys grew up and became grown men. And we became International Rescue. And everyone worked hard and many were saved with those machines. Oh, don't ask me to get all technical. I mean I can tell you all you want to know about combine harvesters or fertilizer spreaders, but if you want to know more about the Thunderbirds you have to ask Brains. I did tell you he stuttered, didn't I?

Do you remember that meat scare we had in the early 30s? And as the boys ate a lot of meat, we had to do something about it. So Kyrano decided to breed his own theramine treated chickens, rabbits, and we even had a few pigs. Of course, I put my foot down about the cows. Jeff and the boys did protest, but I'd had enough of that in the past. And after some experimenting we found a way to make that rabbit meat taste like beef. And then Scott gave theramine to Virgil. Don't ask me why, my dear, Scott said that it was easier. And it is true, we didn't trip over Virgil as often as we used to.

But then came that terrible day… Tin-Tin came in and asked if we knew where Virgil was. He wasn't in his hutch, she said. And after we had searched the whole island Gordon finally admitted to putting Virgil in with the other rabbits. And yeah, well, Virgil was a cute little bunny, but let's face it, so are all bunnies. So, which one was Virgil? Scott said he could find him, if we had a large carrot for him. That reminds me, I always wondered if vegetables and fruit could be treated by some sort of theramine too, but anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, so Scott went to the rabbits with his carrot and I will never forget his face when he came back and told us that Virgil wasn't there. And then Kyrano fainted.

Now, he did that a lot, of course, so at first we thought nothing of it, but after he'd come around, it was obvious he was upset. He begged us to check the rabbits once more, so we went to the pen. Well, to make a long story short, we gave all the animals the once-over again, but no Virgil. And then Kyrano fainted again.

And then I started to worry. And then, oh, it's almost too horrible to talk about… then Kyrano took us to the freezer and got out that deeply frozen carcass that… that… that had been Virgil. And then Scott fainted.

No, not that towel, my dear, use a hanky when you need to blow your nose. And it gets worse. For when Scott came around again, he picked up the body, held it close to his chest, and moaned. He moaned, he moaned, he moaned, then his moaning changed to a roar, and then he hit Gordon on the head with it. Completely bashed his head in.

I don't know how long we stood there, watching Gordon lying dead on the kitchen floor with Virgil slowly defrosting on top of him. It was a sight I will never forget, even if I live to be one hundred.

Well, Scott pleaded temporarily insanity at the trial and was acquitted. And then he left the island to go to Australia and devote his life to finding a cure for myxomatosis. Tin-Tin went with him. Funny, I always knew that girl had a soft spot for Virgil, but I'd have said that it was Alan who she preferred. What's that you say? Sure, a mighty handsome man is young Alan. Oh dear, come to think about it… I wonder if she took her bunting bag.

And Kyrano? He couldn't come to terms with killing Virgil and he went to Myanmar to become a monk in a Buddhist monastery. I've heard that because of a bad karma he didn't reach Nirvana. I don't understand why he didn't take another karma, I mean, if he had set his heart to go there. What's that you say? Karma isn't a car? Oh my, well, you're never too old to learn.

Anyway, tomorrow is my birthday. Ninety. Maybe Scott and Tin-Tin will call me, maybe they will not. And Lady Penelope will come. Oh, not for me, oh no. No, she will come for Jeff. Yes, that hussy wants to snare my son. I wonder… would Brains have time enough to make a cast-iron bunting bag…

Well, goodnight my dear. Thank you for listening to an old woman.


End file.
